


Orpheus wept for Eurydice

by lexisflexis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Pansy Parkinson, Gen, Kidnapping, Revenge killing, Serial Killers, Sexual Assault, Torture, Vigilante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 23:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexisflexis/pseuds/lexisflexis
Summary: Pansy goes on a Muggle rapist killing spree (i.e. in which Pansy becomes a vessel for the author’s frustrations at a culture that does nothing to address men’s violence against women except telling women to be more careful when existing).





	Orpheus wept for Eurydice

**Author's Note:**

> I feel this stream of consciousness probably requires an explanation - see author's notes at the end. However - please, PLEASE don’t read this if you are likely to be triggered by male on female violence, sexual assault or any form of non-consensual sexual activity (or revenge killings, for that matter).

*

She calls this her penance.

For the bullying, for the poisonous words. For all the faults and wrongs and betrayals she committed as a cruel, spiteful teenager. For everything in her life that cements her as the villain, makes her unredeemable, leads to _Potter’s there, someone grab him!_ (but can you blame her, really, for wanting the madness to end?)

This is more like a cleansing. She doesn’t actually care about atonement; the magical world does not extend absolution to people like her. Pansy has long since learned that these structures don’t change (Shacklebolt’s new favourite phrase _ethical reforms_ would make her shriek with laughter if she still had a sense of humour). The magical community is hypocritical to its dirty, rotten core. It’ll happily cast them out, her and her kind, for as long as it takes to maintain the appearance of _change_ , of _progress_. All the while Lucius Malfoy’s gilded hand continues to slide into the pockets of Ministry officials, children like her are stamped _Slytherin_ and told: you are not good, you can never be good, wear your wealth your cunning your ambition like protective armour and carve a niche for yourself in a world that despises you.

Whatever battles Potter and his mates were trying to win, these things do not change. She knew it then and she knows it now; evil is human nature (not just a _quarter_ of humans) and beating one bad guy doesn’t take care of the rest of them.

So Pansy stalks the streets of Muggle London and fights her own battle.

*

She goes by ‘Jane’, generally, unless they don’t bother to ask her name (some of them prefer to take you by surprise and drag you into the nearest bush). Sometimes she pretends to put up a fight.

She usually gives them about two minutes to feel powerful before she gets to work.

Sometimes it’s a back-alley assault with a knife to her throat or rough hands around her pretty, delicate neck. These ones are short term targets; the ones abusing lone girls from across the street or following them into deserted car parks, the ones hanging outside bathrooms, the ones lurking in parks. The ones slipping small pills into unattended drinks. Oh, she’ll watch them for a few hours, just to make sure. Then it’s a quick glamour to get their attention, and a Supersensory charm to make sure that yes, he’s taken the bait, he’s following.

She might use her wand now, or cast a non-verbal stinging hex for the initial reprieve. Once they’re on the ground, maybe it’s a _Sectumsempra_ or a full-body bind. Her personal favourite is the leg-locker, watching them topple over and then drag themselves away on their forearms while she follows them, cooing. _What’s the matter love? Can’t you take a compliment? Aren’t you into a bit of rough play?_

_You seemed really into it before._

_Why are you so uptight?_

_Crawl any slower and I’ll think you’re just playing hard to get._

And afterwards. Most of them she’ll Obliviate (she leaves just enough trauma lurking below the surface of their replacement memory so that they won’t try it again). The ones who need a slightly more forceful reminder, she leaves them with permanent memories to accompany their permanent injuries. Who’s going to believe them anyway?

But don’t call her a hero, hear? She’s not some daft git with crooked glasses and a slashed forehead. She's not out for justice, it's never been about that.

*

Then there are the ones that require a little more planning.

These are the ones who give her that Feeling, the ones she lets get away the first time and then watches from a distance, follows for weeks, maybe months. Biding her time, getting a feel for their habits, their movements, their preferences. Knowing where they live, knowing their family (and more often than not, there is a family), their favourite haunts. Where they like to prey. Where they might go to dispose of a body.

Pansy has always been talented at identifying and exploiting weaknesses.

And when she’s ready, then she’ll fall into their path like a miracle - the perfect little blonde, the plump brunette, the young mum who needs help with groceries, the drunk streetwalker, the girl they’ve been waiting for.

She’ll go with him willingly. She’ll exude trust. She’ll smile and smile and let her confidence give way to polite discomfort, then - when it’s time - a shrill fear. She’ll cry, she’ll beg, she’ll bargain. Because she knows, by now, what gets him off.

Funnily enough, they never check her for a wand.

And then, when the bastard is in his element, about to inflict his worst, she’ll casually loosen her bonds and start her game.

It might start with objects levitated around the room. Eerie whispers in his head. Lost control over random body parts. Books falling off shelves, lights flickering - the usual, you know. Just enough cheap trickery to keep him occupied while she’s assessing how to punish him best. 

The torture tends to vary depending on how vicious he’s been, or how vindictive she’s feeling.

*

It always culminates in an extracted and lengthy confession that she makes him write, in his own hand, outlining the nature of his crimes, the names of his victims, the places they are buried. She carries a little vial of Veritaserum with her for this purpose, in case _Crucio_ doesn’t yield enough or she’s feeling too exhausted for a lengthy interrogation.

(One time, out of curiosity more than anything, she let him live and staged an escape - let the muggles do their jobs, kept her glamour on, went to trial. The incompetence on all sides was stunning and the experience left her feeling profoundly disappointed. She doesn't set much store by institutions anymore.)

These days, she doesn’t use Avada Kedavra to finish the job unless she’s feeling especially generous. If she can be bothered, she'll stage a suicide.

Like she says, she is not a hero.

Afterwards she’ll anonymously tip off the Muggle authorities and let them deal with the mess. No one has ever accused her of being a good person, either.

*

She never bothers to wipe the traces of dark magic from the scenes, knowing her luck will run out eventually. When the Aurors working undercover in serious crimes finally track her down and bring her in for questioning, she doesn’t make it easy for them. Pansy still believes in blood purity - learned habits die hard after all - it’s just that these days the distinction between _tolerable_ and _scum_ has shifted somewhat.

She is tried by the Wizengamot and sentenced to 5 years in Azkaban for a litany of crimes, Muggle-baiting and use of the Unforgivables among them. She supposes she should be grateful they haven't listed out her childhood crimes but, then again, she also supposes they didn't have to. She recognises the parents of her peers among those passing judgment. 

She is asked: what was it all for?

 

_Lucius Malfoy tortured hundred of innocent Muggles_ , she doesn’t say

_I am just being the villain everyone expected me to be_ , she doesn’t say

_I only went for the bad men in the park_ , she doesn’t say

_There are thousands more in homes across Britain_ , she doesn’t say

_There is more than one kind of evil_ , she doesn’t say

 

Instead she says: I have never tried to be a hero.

*

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written in a haze of fury following the rape and murder of yet another young woman in my country, and the usual commentary about women needing to engage in the very protective measures that they have been using since childhood. In case it needs to be said: I don't actually condone any of the twisted stuff I've made Pansy do, and I certainly don't condone vigilante violence...but oh boy. If only we all had a bit of dark magic to pull out of our pockets in an emergency instead of car keys and tasers.


End file.
